


In Which Peter Finds the Brooklyn Bridge Appealing in the Wrong Way, and Sam Wilson Likes Ice Cream

by Scotty1609



Series: Hey, Kid! (Or How the Avengers Unwittingly Adopted Spiderman) [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And Peter appreciates that, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Sam doesn't pity Peter, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, peter parker is depressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:46:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8982364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scotty1609/pseuds/Scotty1609
Summary: Sam Wilson is flying around aimlessly when he finds a shaggy-haired sixteen-year-old about to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge. Also, you're never too old for ice cream.





	

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: reference to death, suicide, self-harm, anxiety, PTSD, and other triggering subjects.
> 
> My first fanfic for this fandom. I love Peter Parker and Sam Wilson, and I feel like Sam would be the fun/supportive uncle that Peter needs, so this story was born.

 

Sam dealt with a lot of things in his work. Depression, anxiety, mostly PTSD, suicidal idealization- he'd seen it all. He'd seen people move past it, and he'd seen people give in to it. What always shook him up most, though, was seeing the young ones. The kids in their late teens, early twenties, who came back too early, were discharged for various reasons. The kids who suffered from nightmares and hurt far deeper than Sam could explain to a civilian. It was the worst thing, watching those kids give up. He'd had two funerals to go to just in the past six months, two suicides- one from a twenty-three year old girl who had PTSD from being captured as a POW, and the other from a nineteen-year-old boy who was discharged from a bomb attack that had cost him both legs. It was torture, going to those funerals and watching the families sob over lives so young, lost so early.

So yeah, Sam had seen a lot of shit over the years. On the field and off.

But now, watching this kid balancing on the edge of the Brooklyn bridge, teetering on the edge of death, he felt a sort of darkness that he hadn't felt before wash over him and settle like lead in his stomach.

This kid couldn't be more than sixteen, big brown eyes and messy brown hair, glasses and an overgrown hoodie thrown on haphazardly. He was holding onto a support beam with one hand, one foot outstretched over the water below as he tried to build up the courage to do it.

“Hey, kid,” Falcon said softly as he landed on the bridge behind the boy, metallic wings not fully retracting in case he had to do an impromptu rescue-dive. He tried to speak quiet enough not to scare the boy, but it seemed the kid was ignoring him.

“Hey, kid!” Falcon said again, stepping close enough to put a hand on the boy's bicep, holding tight enough to let the boy know he wasn't going anywhere, but not tight enough to hurt. “Why don't you come on this side of the block and we can have a chat, yea?”

The boy shuffled his feet- and Sam was _so_ thankful that both feet were now on solid ground- and shrugged. “I'm more comfy over here, actually.”

“Alright,” Sam conceded, “do you think you could at least sit down for me? A _few_ steps closer?”

Looking warily at Falcon, finally taking in the superhero's uniform and Avengers logo on his shoulder, the kid sighed and plopped down on the ground, back against the support beam and one foot hanging off the edge. It was still too close for comfort for Sam, so he pulled the kid's leg up, nearly smirking at the boy's eye-roll.

Falcon sat down across from the kid, leg extended to block the one-way trip off the bridge. “Where're you from, kid?”

The boy looked up from playing with his tattered hoodie sleeve, eying Sam from behind those huge, taped glasses. “Queens.”

“Bit far to walk, isn't it?”

The kid shrugged again. “Took the subway.”

Sam made a noise of recognition and nodded. “Well. Any reason why you wanted to take a one-way trip to a not-so-fun water park?”

The kid did smirk at this, and Sam took that as a small victory. “You wouldn't get it.”

Sam leaned forward on his haunches, flicking the kid's hands with a finger. “Try me.”

The boy sighed heavily, looking out to the water with a longing expression. He didn't speak, but from the way his jaw clenched and his throat swallowed, Sam could tell he was gearing himself up to it.

It wasn't always this way. Each case was different. But Sam had seen people in this position often enough to know what was going through the kid's head. He had been there himself, before, back before the meetings and the counseling, before he met Steve and Natasha and learned to re-integrate himself into a team, a family. Often times, with cases like this kid, Sam found that a main reason that people were driven over the edge was loneliness. They- himself included- had felt unloved or alone, abandoned or unworthy. It was demons like loneliness that wrought on stronger demons- depression, anxiety, _suicide_.

“I kill everyone I love.”

The words interrupted Sam's analysis of the boy, and he cocked his head to the side, listening intently. When it appeared that the boy wasn't going to continue, Sam spoke, “What do you mean?”

The boy shrugged, and Sam nearly made a comment on getting neck problems in his old age, but then the kid continued talking. “My parents gave me up when I was four and died in a plane crash. I ran off and got my uncle shot when he came looking for me. My girlfriend's dad got shot for me, too, and my girlfriend snapped her neck in a fall.”

 _Well, shit_ , Sam thought. _No wonder the poor kid's brains are scrambled up._

“That sucks.”

The kid's head popped up, and he looked to Sam with surprise. “What?”

“That sucks,” Sam reiterated. “Kids like you shouldn't have to go through that much loss... But it ain't your fault, you know, right?” Upon hearing silence, Sam sighed. “Obviously not.” He kicked the boy's hip gently, looking at him intently. “Did you pull the trigger on your uncle?”

Hesitantly, the boy shook his head.

“Did you malfunction the plane your parents were on?”

“No.”

“Then it wasn't your fault.”

“My girlfriend was...” the boy mumbled, burrowing his face in his knees.

“Did you push her?” Sam was hoping the answer was no. He felt relief upon the kid's negatory head shake. “Then-”

“I caught her, but the force of the catch made her neck snap.”

And _ouch_. That must've _sucked_. “Still not your fault. You were saving her, right? Life kicks us in the ass, sometimes, even when we try to do good.”

“Why?”

Sam's heart broke upon hearing the hopeless crack in the child's voice. He sighed, extending a hand to the boy's much smaller shoulder and squeezing. “I don't know, kid. I don't. It sucks... But it gets better. I promise.”

Brown eyes were filling with tears, and Sam wanted to just pull this kid into his arms and hold on tightly. “ _How_? How can it get better?”

“You learn to cope,” Sam said slowly, “I did. I know a lot of people who have... I know a lot of people who haven't, though. And I don't want you to become one of those people.”

“You don't even _know_ me.”

“Hi, I'm Sam Wilson, also known as the Falcon, member of the Avengers.” Sam stuck out his hand, smiling at the look of shock that was flashed back at him. After a beat, the boy smiled softly and took the offered hand.

“Peter Parker.”

“Well, Peter Parker, now I know you. Hey, you like ice cream?”

The boy- Peter- pouted a bit. “I'm sixteen, not six.”

“I like ice cream, and I'm thirty-two.”

Peter's smile grew a bit, and Sam stood, pulling Peter up with him. “So. What's your favorite flavor?”

 

 

 


End file.
